Gotta Go
by LyricalSinger
Summary: Sherlock and John travel to Edinburgh. Reviews are welcome, but please be kind. Once again, huge thanks to sarajm for all her help with this story!


"Come ON, John", yelled Sherlock as he hurried down the steps to the front door of 221B. "We're on a schedule". John just sighed, grabbed his jacket, his duffle bag and Sherlock's carry-all and ran down the stairs after his friend.

As he reached the bottom step, he heard Mrs. Hudson's voice from her doorway. "Off again, are you?"

"Yes, Mrs. Hudson. Apparently Sherlock's working on something for Mycroft and we're off to Edinburgh. We shouldn't be gone more than a couple of days".

"Oh, enjoy yourselves then, John. The train ride is actually quite lovely".

"I know", said John, "but would you believe Himself wants to drive?! I can't for the life of me figure out …." John would have finished his sentence save for the fact that Sherlock was now standing in front of him, and rather rudely interrupted his conversation with Mrs. Hudson with "John, hurry UP".

"Gotta go, Mrs. Hudson. Take care", cried John as he was hustled out of the house and towards the car sitting at the curb.

"All right, all right, hold your horses", muttered John as he tripped over the stoop and almost dropped both cases he was carrying. "You know, you could have brought your own bag down to the car", said John, stowing both cases in the boot.

"Why? You seem to have it all in hand" responded Sherlock with a smirk as he got behind the driver's wheel. "Come on, stop gawking and get in; we're on a tight schedule".

"What I can't figure out, said John as he slid in the passenger side, is why you insisted on driving instead of taking the train. You do realize that the train only takes about four-and-a-half hours, but driving will take at least seven, don't you?"

"But the train is so BORING, and the timing is all wrong" whined Sherlock, as he deftly pulled the car away from the curb and headed towards the M1. John wisely chose to ignore that comment and said instead "But Sherlock, if, as you keep insisting, we're on a tight schedule, you know the trains leave about every half-hour. I can't see how driving is going to get us there any faster or even keep us on whatever 'schedule' you keep harping on about."

"It'll be fine, John. Stop worrying," replied Sherlock.

"I'm not worrying," thought John. Well, to be honest, John was not worrying about any imaginary schedule; he was more worried about seven hours in a car with a slightly manic Consulting Detective. He'd never driven with Sherlock and Mycroft's comment: "You can imagine the Christmas Dinners" was circling around his brain. "Give me strength" was the main focus of his thoughts as they wended their way through London and onto the motorway.

About two hours into the trip, John turned to Sherlock and said "Can we pull over at the next stop? You were in such a hurry this morning that I didn't get a chance to eat breakfast or even get a cup of coffee and I'm desperate for caffeine at the moment."

"Really, John? Caffeine? Are you sure that's wise? Studies have shown that caffeine can increase urine output and we don't have time to stop every hour because you've 'got to go'."

"Just pull in at the next rest stop", said John, glaring at Sherlock. "Trust me, Sherlock; you won't want to be stuck in a car with me for five more hours if I don't get any caffeine in my system within the next ten minutes".

"Fine. I'll pull over at the next stop". John knew Sherlock was not thrilled with him by the way he popped his 'p' at the end of the sentence. Still, John knew his limits and was not going to take a 'no' in this case.

About fifteen minutes later Sherlock pulled into a petrol station to fill up. As he hopped out, John turned to Sherlock and said "Do you want anything?" "No" said Sherlock. "Unlike you, I am not a slave to my body's needs. Remember, John, this is just transport" he said, pointing to his body. "And don't take forever!"

John just gave Sherlock a look and headed off to use the facilities, get some coffee and something to eat. "Some of us are normal human beings, muttered John to himself as he headed into the little store attached to the station, and we actually need such things as food and water. Wanker."

About 5 minutes later, John was back at the car and looking much happier now that he was holding two bottles of water, a couple of cranberry muffins and a vanilla latte. Who knew that a small petrol station like this one would have its' own café with a cute barista who obviously knew a lot about coffee?

However, as he went to get in the car, Sherlock handed him the keys and said "you drive" as he slid into the passenger seat.

"Ummm … Sherlock …." began John, looking somewhat abashed.

"What?" demanded Sherlock.

"I can't drive," mumbled John.

"I beg your pardon?" said Sherlock, with a surprised look on his face.

"I can't drive" reiterated John, in a matter-of-fact tone.

"You can't drive. What do you mean you can't drive? Everyone can drive! I can drive; even _Mrs. Hudson_ can drive! You were in the Army …. didn't they teach you drive?" By this point, Sherlock was out of the car, arms flailing and staring at John like he had just grown two additional heads.

"Well, said John, it's not so much that the Army didn't teach me to drive …. I'm just really bad at it and I've never passed the tests nor applied for a license. Besides, I live in London – a City with a great public transit system so a car is not a necessity. I thought you, 'Mr. I-can-deduce-your-life-based-on-this-piece-of-lint -on-your-shoulder', would have figured that out already."

"Apparently not," said Sherlock, looking somewhat surprised that he hadn't known about John's apparent lack of driving skills. "There's always something" he said, smiling at John.

"Well, we've wasted enough time here. Get in, so we can get going". Sherlock walked around the front of the car and got in.

As he and John were settling themselves, John turned to Sherlock and said "I got you some water and a muffin. I figure you won't want to stop for food, so this will be easy to eat while driving."

"Thank you, John" responded Sherlock as he put the car in gear. "Wait, don't you want to use the facilities?" asked John.

"Transport" was the only response he got.

It was turning into a lovely drive. This was a surprise to John, since he rarely associated "lovely" with "drive". Because he didn't drive, John had spent his entire life as a passenger … often with some of the worst drivers in the world! Take, for example, his Army buddy Murray. John was convinced the man considered posted speed limits as mere 'suggestions' and any time John got in the car with him, by the time they were at their destination, John always felt he'd punched a hole in the floor of the car stomping on his 'imaginary' brake pedal.

Sherlock, on the other hand, was a joy to drive with. He kept to a reasonable speed, didn't crowd the cars around him, seemed to know what side mirrors were for and, best of all, didn't complain too much about the radio station John had settled on. Mind you, he was droning on about the merits of public radio over commercial radio, but by this time John had become quite adept about tuning him out!

They were about three-quarters of the way to Edinburgh and had only made two stops as of yet. Both times, Sherlock was obviously reluctant to stop, but John had insisted. He'd hopped out to use the facilities and stretch his legs, but Sherlock had refused with nothing more than the comment of "Transport, John" each time. But, he seemed happy with the progress they were making, so John didn't make an issue of it.

John was enjoying the scenery when he noticed that Sherlock had a very intense look on his face. "Everything OK?" asked John. "Of course" came the response.

About five minutes later, the intense look had turned into one of discomfort. "Sure you're OK?" queried John. "Fine, John, I'm fine" snapped Sherlock.

It was about then that the squirming started. John caught a glimpse of Sherlock out of the corner of his eye and he realized _exactly_ what was going on. "Transport my arse" thought John. He needs to go.

"John … being a doctor, and knowing your predilection for good health … do you need to use the bathroom?"

"No Sherlock. I'm fine," answered John as he looked out the window, trying desperately not to smile.

"Good …. good," said Sherlock "that's good, because we're on a schedule, you know".

"Yes, Sherlock, I am aware of that fact. I should be fine until we reach the hotel".

"Ahhh ….. OK …. Um, you're sure you'll be fine? Because I can always pull off if you need me to…"

"No Sherlock, I'll be OK; but thanks for asking", replied John.

So there they were, two supposed adults sitting in a car: one too proud to pull off the road to use the bathroom and the other enjoying the whole situation a little too much.

After another five minutes of subtle squirming from Sherlock, John took pity, turned to him and said "You know, actually I wouldn't mind it if you would pull off at the next rest stop. I don't think I can make it to Edinburgh without another pit stop."

"OK … no problem …. I can do that ….." rambled Sherlock. All of a sudden the car veered to the left and they were speeding into the parking lot of a Little Chef. John had a death grip on the dashboard as Sherlock swerved through the parked cars and shuddered to a stop in front of the restaurant. He waved his hands towards John and said "Go, go … you said you wanted to go … I think I'll just get out and stretch my legs" and with that Sherlock jumped out of the car and ran towards the doors of the restaurant. He had already disappeared inside while John was still trying to undo his seatbelt.

As they passed each other at the bathroom doors, John just looked at Sherlock and smirked "Transport, hunh".

"Shut up" retorted Sherlock, with a smile.

Two days later, after the successful conclusion of what would eventually be written up as "The Demise of the Dancing Diplomat", Sherlock knocked on John's hotel room door and when John opened it, said "Are you ready to go? I've already checked us out and if we hurry we can catch the next train for London. It departs in 25 minutes."

John looked at Sherlock, a little dumbstruck, and then said "Train? But … what about the car?"

"Not a problem", replied Sherlock. "We can drop it off at the Station, hop on the train and be back in London in less than five hours. The advantages of the train, John, are numerous: no traffic to deal with either here or in London, shorter travel time, the opportunity to relax after such an energetic couple of days and enjoy the scenery. And you see such _interesting_ people on a train, John. It will be like a vacation for my brain!"

"And don't forget the numerous bathrooms", grinned John.

"Shut up".


End file.
